Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 7

by Vanessa Ravencroft

  I said, "We know of a force or species called the Dark Ones only from legends. Two of our oldest member species, the Saresii and the Narth, remember that time and in their stories and legends the Dark Ones fought a galaxy-spanning culture we call the Celtest, as their true name is lost in time."

  A tear pearled across the alien woman's cheek. "I know of the Narth and the Saresii. I also know you speak the truth. I am a Seenian, or what you call Celtest."

  She still stared at the screen. "Can you enhance that lower sector?"

  Wetmouth did and said, "This region of the galaxy is called the Downward Sector and is still mostly unexplored."

  Cateria tried to raise her hand but the field restrained her. "Can you zoom in on the left side and highlight all sequence sender stars there?"

  I wondered what she meant but Wetmouth nodded. "I am sure she means quasars."

  The alien woman said, "The ancient ones that seeded human life in our galaxy left these beacon stars. The Throne World should be right there, but all I see is another nebula." Her voice became a whisper. "There are no Seenians left then? We lost the war?"

  I nodded. "Saresii records tell us that they joined the Celtest in that fight against these Dark Ones. The Saresii paid dearly for their involvement and had been punished by those Dark Ones. All their colonies and settled worlds were destroyed, with the exception of their home world. The Saresii fell back into primitive pre-industrial conditions and gave up all space flight for more than 100 000 years. When they finally resumed space exploration both the Dark Ones and the Celtest were gone.

  "There are no accessible reports about what the Narth know about that time."

  Wetmouth called up a selection of GalNet articles on Celtest subjects and said, "There are a few known Celtest artefacts and rumors about Celtest ruins, but no one ever claimed to have found anything belonging to the Dark Ones."

  Wetmouth switched to another article and said, "This is an article about the Celtest Terra legend; some scholars believe it to be true that the Terrans developed out of a forgotten or overlooked Celtest colony. Eric's ancestors are from Terra and our helmsman is a true Terran."

  Her eyes lit up. "Maybe that is why you could capture me so easily!"

  I grunted. "It wasn't exactly easy."

  She sighed. "I think my ship automatically attacked your hospital ship to gain the necessary energy and materials to repair and restore itself; I was woken shortly after the initial attack on that ship of yours. My repair capabilities were severely hampered by the lack of energy and the battle damage my intelligence systems received."

  She trembled and then sighed. "I will no longer resist, and try to help."

  Two days later.

  "This is Midshipman Olafson, currently in command of the Devastator auxiliary ship 45-12, Barracuda class destroyer," I said after Elfi got me connected to Fleet Command. "We waited as long as possible for assistance but without any Fleet units arriving in time and without further instructions or response to our reports, I decided to continue with our efforts. We are now in orbit around Planet Gregory. We managed to partially repair the hospital ship, revive the crew from emergency stasis and tow the Paracelsus to Gregory.

  "Captain Perma is currently in surgery but expected to recover fully from the wounds he received during the attack on his ship. My Science Officer, Midshipman Wetmouth is currently planetside assisting the medical research team of the Paracelsus and she believes she has isolated the cause of the epidemic. My Engineer Midshipman, Cirruit, is working on modifying a Loki Torpedo to send a counter-agent into the atmosphere of Planet Gregory. We expect this to be the fastest way to combat the disease-causing microbes. We have a live Celtest Commandant aboard, who was in suspended animation for about a million years and was the cause for the Paracelsus damage."

  The Commodore laughed harshly. "Mister Olafson, I have had about enough with your jokes and your fantastic stories. I indulged your games for a while now and I am sure you are having fun in whatever simulation the Academy put you in, but now you need to stay away from official Fleet channels and connect me with your commanding officer. Your fantasies are getting out of control."

  "Sir, I am the commanding officer of this ship, but I can connect you to the XO of the Paracelsus in a short while, their comm. systems are still under repair."

  "I had enough of this, Midshipman. Your adventure stories were fun and imaginative. I am contacting the Devastator for real now and will tell your Captain that you are in trouble now!"

  The Commodore cut off the transmission before I could say another word.

  I looked at Elfi. "I am getting the distinct feeling he never really contacted anyone, no wonder nobody ever showed up."

  She blinked at me. "I did transmit our ID codes and everything."

  "Maybe he never looked at them."

  "We are being hailed, Eric. From the Devastator."

  Captain Harris and Stahl appeared on our screen and both had stern, unreadable faces. Stahl spoke first. "I just got a complaint by the section Commander of Cygnus Sector. He tells me a bunch of Midshipmen keep contacting him with outrageous stories of live Celtest, hospital ships in distress and all this happening deep in Union space. He liked your games at first but he thinks you are misusing official communication channels. What is this all about? Didn't Captain Harris send you to the Dover System?"

  "Yes, Sir, we were on our way to Dover when we encountered a distress call on our way and contacted Fleet Command for advice." I looked away from the screen and gave Elfi a sign. "Transmit our comm. logs and transcripts to them."

  I saw both Harris and Stahl watch and listen to our initial contact with Fleet Command.

  Stahl then looked up and said, "The Commodore believed it was a training scenario, and never checked or called on the Paracelsus. He never called us or anyone else either. Now tell me the rest!"

  I repeated my report and when I came to the end I said, "We overstrained our engines towing the Paracelsus. We could use some spare parts and fuel. The colony doesn't have much and the Paracelsus is still without an engineering section."

  There was silence; both officers looked at me with open mouths. Stahl then swallowed. "You are under Red-Red-Blue right now. Do not call anyone or mention the Celtest officer. We will be there shortly!"

  We all stood in line and at attention on one of the Devastator's flight decks. Harris and Stahl walked slowly up and down the short line we had formed; finally the Captain stopped and turned to me. "Teaches me to give the Olafson Gang a ship, anyone else would have made it to Dover without any problems or incidents. There are ship's crews spending their entire career flying all across this galaxy of ours and nothing ever happens to them, but the Olafson Gang has to pick a fight with a tech level 11 spaceship, capture a real live Celtest officer, tow a battleship-sized ship across 103 light years and find time to save 200 000 settlers by identifying the cause of a planet-wide disease and even find a way to effect a cure."

  He threw his hands into the air. "If we want to make this galaxy a truly safe place, I guess we have to stick the nine of you into suspended animation for the next 10 000 years. It certainly would make my life a whole lot more predictable."

  I lowered my head. "I am sorry, Sir. I know you gave us orders to go to Dover. I apologize if I disappointed you. I was in command and it was my fault alone. My friends only followed my orders. I accept all blame and any punishment you see fit."

  "I see. What do you have to say in your defense?"

  "Sir, I believed I acted according to regulations, especially after Fleet Command gave me the green light to proceed. I was not aware he thought this was an exercise. Lives were at stake, Sir. Truth to be told I would have acted the same way if I had no orders from Fleet Command. Before you punish me, Sir, I want to recommend my fellow Midshipmen who acted gallantly and professionally."

  Harris put his hand on my shoulder and sighed. "Olafson, you are not in any trouble. The Admiral and I watched some of your recordings and we are deeply impressed
by your conduct, action and professionalism. It was my fault for not giving the Barracuda officially recognizable codes that the Commodore could check and verify. The ship now has a name and that might help too. It is properly registered now at Fleet Central as the USS Porter."

  He shook his head. "The only thing I still can't explain is why these things always happen to you. Do you have some sort of magnet or perhaps a gypsy cursed you in your crib?"

  Stahl's stern face didn't change. "The discovery of a living member of the Celtest race is perhaps the most significant find in recent history. Because of that significance, it must remain secret. You are not allowed to speak to anyone about this incident.

  "However the events showed clearly that you are no mere Midshipmen, but talented and resourceful officers. I am making you all acting Ensigns and make your ranks permanent after you complete your challenge at Dover Planet. It seems almost trivial to send you now to a Midshipman challenge, but we already committed you to that. Since Captain Harris is already getting used to decorating you, I will do it myself."

  Harris opened a box and Stahl tagged a Distinguished Space Star on my ribbon display. "Mr. Olafson, once more you displayed courage and resourcefulness in a difficult situation and, while I am not superstitious, I begin to ask myself the same questions Captain Harris has raised."

  He then decorated everyone the same way and added a golden Mercy Cross to Wetmouth's decorations. "This is for identifying a disease and saving an entire planet by finding a cure."

  She answered, "Thank you Sir, but it is Cirruit who deserves it. It was his idea to seed the atmosphere with a genetically-designed virus that killed the fever-causing bacteria."

  He sighed, just like Harris. "That's why I am giving him one too!"

  Chapter 4: Newport

  We entered the outermost orbit of the Dover System 10 hours before the deadline.

  Har-Hi, who stood next to me, sighed. "I wish it could have taken longer. This is what I am born for, to be aboard a ship, roaming the stars!"

  I felt the same way and agreed with him. "Me too!"

  The doors opened and Wetmouth stepped through, taking her seat behind the small science station at the rear of the bridge.

  I observed Har-Hi, who acted as the OPS officer of our little crew, dedicating sensors from tactical to her console. Mao gave her a short sensor report and she acknowledged it. Her bank of screens lit up, one showed an image of the local sun while another listed the current artificial sensor contacts within range. A third screen correlated the contacts with known Union transponder data.

  Elfi was running a logarithm on all communication chatter, scanning it for relevant key phrases.

  Krabbel plotted a waypoint course through the local system while keeping a prepared escape course at the ready in case of any trouble.

  Shaka slowed down, responding to a hand sign of mine.

  My friends worked like a well-tuned machine as if they had done this sort of thing for all their lives. The pride I felt to have friends and a crew like that could not be expressed in words.

  Entering a system this way was not really necessary. We could have dropped out of quasi-space much closer to the third orbit of this system and approached Dover planet directly, but I intended to follow Captain K'Tngnk's example and heed the advice he had given me when he allowed me to pilot the Madrid.

  Dover System was deep in Union space, had a large Navy base on the sixth planet, and was home to Saran Principalis, the Throne World of the Saran Empire. Thus one of the most important worlds was only 70 light years away, Elfi was basically home; the Saran Empire stretched over thousands of solar systems from here on out.

  I said,"Elfi, do you want to call home?"

  "Already did this morning from my GalNet terminal. Mother sends her greetings to all of you."

  I really dreaded that our time aboard the Barracuda was about to end and said, "No sense in delaying it; Elfi hail Newport and give me a channel."

  She made the necessary moves over her terminal, added the necessary codes and identified the correct channels, and then she said. "You're on, Eric."

  "This is Devastator auxiliary destroyer USS Porter under command of Midshipman Eric Olafson, calling Newport Control. Request landing instructions. We are here for the contest."

  "This is Newport Control. Get off the channel, Midshipman, and let me talk to your commanding officer. We like to do things properly around here!"

  "Sir, I am the commanding officer of this ship and I followed the proper procedures."

  "Transmit your authorization codes and verification data. I've never heard of a Midshipman commanding a Destroyer."

  I nodded to Elfi and she pushed our new order chip in the transmit reader. I keyed in my command codes.

  The channel was still open and we heard the voice on the other end say, "Only that crazy Captain Harris could have thought of that. There is a Midshipman out there in command of a Destroyer. The codes and orders have been authenticated."

  Port Control switched to visuals, the Newport logo was replaced by a live feed and we could see a human cadet sitting behind a communications console; another, also human, officer stood behind him and looked at us with his disapproval still coloring his voice. "This is Commander Becker, Midshipman Olafson you are to land your ship near the Academy. Newport lacks a full spaceport as all big ship traffic is usually handled by Dover Six. Our only landing field is already filled to capacity with the transports of other contestants. We were not expecting to accommodate a full-sized destroyer. However since you are here, landing permission is granted and you may touch down next to the landing field. May we ask you to put your destroyer down gently and don't bruise the grass too much?"

  I responded. "Aye, Sir, we will try to land this 11 000 ton destroyer as gently as possible."

  He cut the transmission and Elfi said, "We received their landing instructions and manual coordinates; there is no external Port Control coming on as it seems. I am transferring the coordinates to you, Shaka."

  I made a waving hand gesture. "You heard the man, Shaka. Take her down and don't bruise the grass too much if you can."

  Shaka nodded without turning. He steered our ship down without going into orbit and through the layers of the atmosphere. The battleshields took on the most aerodynamic shape possible and we slid through the atmospheric layers like a razor blade, still the shields glowed white hot. Shaka kept us in a steep dive, aiming at the largest continent surrounded by a deep blue ocean; I hoped I would find time for an extended dive.

  I checked my own readouts displayed on a bank of screens above my seat. Shaka kept us only a minute fraction under the speed limit of Fleet regulations for planetary landings on an occupied world and a ship of this size; he maintained this speed all the way down, neutralizing our fast descent virtually at the last possible moment.

  The landing field was just a large Duro-Crete field in the middle of park-like surroundings.

  I counted 11 D12 shuttles, three D30 types as well as a larger Leyland transport. Indeed there was little room.

  Shaka set us down at the outer edge, all our landing gear still on the Duro-Crete and with less than maybe 20cm to spare between the destroyer and the hull of the Leyland transport.

  He made an elegant move with his hand, pushing engine controls to zero and said, "Landing maneuver complete. I found us a spot and there is no bruised grass!"

  I smirked at him. "I think you caused a few hearts to miss a beat. Whoever watched our descent expected to see a fireball next!"

  Shaka shrugged. "It was a perfectly legal maneuver. Besides, you didn't say a word so I assumed you were okay with it." He had a hard time keeping a stern face.

  Technically he was right, it was my responsibility and I let him do it. I tried to give him a stern look. "I hope you remember me if they demote me, and send me visi-cards once in a while."

  Har-Hi pointed at the main screen. "Looks like we will find out soon enough, we've got company."

  There was an open gr
ound skimmer floating across the grass and speeding towards us.

  I got up, closed the clasps of my uniform jacket and said, "Everyone, grab your gear and let's meet them on the ground outside. Cirruit, shut her down and lock her up."

  We stomped down the boarding ramp, carrying our gear bags. Cirruit was last and said to me, "All systems in rest mode. Lockdown level three commencing on your word."

  I said, "USS Porter, recognize Olafson, Eric. Complete lockdown."

  A contour-hugging, purple film-like forcefield engulfed the hull right after the ramp retracted and the access port had closed. The ship was now inside a paradigm forcefield and secure from any unauthorized access.

  The ground effect skimmer stopped a few feet away from us. The Commander who had spoken to us before we landed, a Saran Lieutenant Commander and a cadet, all of them wearing deep green uniforms, debarked. A fourth man remained behind the controls of the skimmer.

  I instantly recognized the cadet. It was Wintsun and he also recognized me. For a brief moment it looked like as if he could not believe his eyes and I could have sworn I saw an expression of hatred flashing over his face, but I was certain I had misinterpreted whatever I thought I had seen. Wintsun was my friend after all.

  I made my friends stand at attention and snapped myself into the required pose and saluted the approaching Commander. "Midshipman Olafson and team reporting to Newport Academy, Sir."

  Commander Becker inspected us silently, starting with Krabbel, and looked at each of my friends. He stopped before me, his hand behind his back. His face was without a trace of emotion, but his eyes managed to convey his displeasure. Then he looked at my ribbon panel and his expression changed to surprise; he took the rigid position of parade stance and saluted me. "Medal of Honor recipient, present!"

  The Lt. Commander I suspected to be Saran, due to the traditional helmet-like styled, black hair, followed suit and so did Wintsun and the operator of the skimmer.

  After the appropriate moment of silence, Becker relaxed his stance and said, "At ease."